


Locked Inside Me

by RiverOfFandoms



Series: Andrew 'Pope' Cody [1]
Category: Animal Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Character Development, Episode: s02e13 Betrayal, F/M, Flashbacks, Past Character Death, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 23:32:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19486255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverOfFandoms/pseuds/RiverOfFandoms
Summary: What if you were there when Baz came to Pope's house after he heard that Pope was responsible for Cath's death? Inspired by the last camera shot of this scene. Present time set during season 2 episode 13 "Betrayal", though there are flashbacks throughout.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Prequel to this (which I recommend reading after this, sorry to be confusing) is 'Waiting For It All To Begin'

You were at Pope’s apartment. It had been a long night last night and the two of you had yet to properly talk about what happened. It apparently was the least of his problems, though. He seemed preoccupied and closed off, more than what was usual for him; you guessed it had something to do with Amy, but you weren’t sure.

You were on Pope’s couch while he wandered around his house, straightening and re-straightening; cleaning up things that were practically in order already. Last night. It was a mess, and now Pope refused to even look at you.

You watched him as he wiped up dishes and placed them precariously back in the cupboards that bordered his kitchen. They were swift and steady movements, the usual carefulness that he held with everything he did. But you could see, under his smooth actions, that he was stressed; through his flickering darkened eyes and tense jaw.

“Ah, shit—” he breathed quickly, when he realized that there was a wet sponge left on top of the white kitchen counter, the one he just wiped dry before. He defeatedly stared at the sponge for a second before meeting your eyes. He didn’t say anything at first, and you thought he would just ignore your stare, but instead he tilted his head and asked, “What are you staring at?”

You blinked, your chin resting on your hand. You sat back from leaning on your knee and sunk into the cushioning of the couch. “You,” you replied, nonchalantly.

He straightened his face and hid his smirk well; he emphasized his response with slightly raised eyebrows, “ _Why?_ ”

“Because you’re ignoring me.”

He raised an eyebrow at you momentarily and then sighed, sitting back so that he leaned against the counter behind him. He swallowed, hard, and his jaw tensed up again. Pope mastered silence well, always had.

“See?” you pressed, gesturing to his silence.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, “I’m _not_ ignoring you.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and stared pointedly at him.

“I’m not ignoring you,” he reiterated more clearly and slowly, almost like a defiant child, his eyes bigger. “I’m just… busy.” He gestured to the ‘mess’ with his hands.

But you weren’t going to let him get off that easy, it was a pathetic excuse. “You’re not talking to me because of what happened last night.”

He opened his mouth to respond but decided against it, and instead, he turned his face away from you as he stared down at the kitchen counter in front. He lips tightened and you saw his fist clench.

You leaned forward in your seat, “Pope—”

His mobile suddenly rang in his jean back-pocket. It vibrated and lit up, and Pope reached for it instinctively. He glanced at the caller I.D and he frowned, before he lifted it to his ear and answered the phone, “Hello?”

There was a quick response on the other end, and you watched as Pope’s eyes clouded. He immediately hung up the phone and shoved it back into his pocket as he pushed off from the counter. There was fire in his eyes, and whoever called him must have said the worst.

You got up from the couch in response, but he cut you off with narrowed, glaring eyes.

His voice was lower than before, “You gotta go home, Y/N.” He stood there, unmoving.

You shook your head vigorously, already having had made your mind up earlier that you wouldn’t leave him alone today, “No.”

“Y/N,” he growled in defense, “You can’t _stay_ here.”

“I’m not leaving, Andrew.”

He went silent at your use of his first name. He swallowed instead of arguing with you, he knew all too well that once your mind was made, he couldn’t persuade you any different. But he knew you couldn’t be here, not when Baz was on his way over with intent to hurt Pope after what he did to Cath.

And he couldn’t let you see what might happen, he couldn’t be around when you found out what a monster he was.

He left the small kitchen area and neared you with motive to threaten you or some bullshit, though he knew it wouldn’t work. His muscular frame wasn’t enough to intimidate you as he got close enough to smell your perfume, but nonetheless he ordered, “You need to leave.”

“Why—”

“Don’t question me!” his voice was strained as he interjected, “I’ve got shit I need to do, and you can’t be around for it, okay?”

“Since when?” you argued, having been around with Pope before when he’s dealt with some dodgy errands and deals.

He swallowed, “Since now,” his voice was much calmer than before but still firm.

Silence brewed between you both with thick tension in the air, both angry at each other for very different reasons. You were annoyed that he didn’t get it. You couldn’t just _leave_ after what happened last night, you _wouldn’t_. Why didn’t he get the message?

“I’m not leaving—” you began, but soon were cut off by screeching rubber-tires in Pope’s driveway. You turned to the direction of the noise and saw Pope stiffen and become seriously alarmed.

His widened eyes found yours desperately, and he tried to threaten you again but instead it came out more like a plead, “Just—just _hide_.” He gave up on you leaving, but he couldn’t have you around him, not now. He grabbed your arm when you wouldn’t move and shoved you toward his room, “Hide, _please_.” An angry car-door slammed outside, and quick footsteps soon reached his front porch.

You gulped in fear at the panicked look and tone of voice Pope had and obeyed his orders as you fled towards his room and chose to hide in the wardrobe. You slid the door closed and curled up on the floor among his things, in darkness.

You vaguely heard a shuffle of movement in the kitchen before you registered the backdoor sliding open and then closed again. You felt your heart racing inside your chest and the secondhand panic started to settle in. You were suddenly very afraid, and more so for Pope than yourself. You couldn’t place why, but it had something to do with the urgency in his voice and the look in his dark eyes. You suddenly thought about last night again—

Last night. You hadn’t seen Pope all day and had decided to go to Baz’s party at Smurf’s house. You weren’t sure how that was possible though, since Smurf and the boys had been growing more and more apart since the Navy job.

You were hoping to see Pope there but were vaguely disappointed to see he hadn’t come at all. Your relationship with Pope was left undecided, especially ever since that one drunken night months ago when you kissed him, and he kissed you back.

It was just another get together at the Cody’s. J had invited you, after you spent numerous times over their place helping J apply to colleges. It was funny, really, how it all came together. You decided to do some volunteer work at his high school during your semester break from college, and one of J’s teachers set you up to help him understand college applications, expectations and campus life because he was such a promising student.

Then you somehow were accepted by the rest of the Codys, though you knew that they didn’t trust you. You only really got along well with J and, eventually, Pope. But there were moments with J’s other uncles, too. But you were mostly seen as just another one of J’s friends and for some reason, your company was welcome but only when it fit with the whole family. You hadn’t felt welcome into a place for a long time, so much so that it surprised you, and you accepted it gladly for what it was.

But when you met Pope and kept seeing him lurking around every corner, you were curious. He seemed so different from the rest of his brothers. When you actually started talking to him on the odd occasions, when he felt like socializing or not being an asshole, you grew closer. In some weird way, you felt like you could just talk to him and most days, he didn’t mind it. Other days, when he did, you would just sit in comfortable silence instead. You didn’t know what it was about the guy, but he drew you in the instant you saw him.

And when you got drunk that night, you were a little upset. It had been a long week and you were dwelling on darker thoughts and the constant wonder about how you fit in with the world. You had left the dinner table outside, after Smurf finished one of her wild stories, to go to the bathroom. But after you went, you stopped in the darkened living room and stood there. The blinds were drawn over this part of the house, so the others outside couldn’t see you standing there alone.

It felt fitting, to just stand in darkness.

It was like you were emptying your brain into the void. But then you heard one of the doors slide open and closed again, cracking through your tranquility, and at first, you didn’t even bother to check who came inside.

“What are you doing?” Pope’s voice was quiet and gentle, not threatening or defensive like it usually was with the others. You weren’t sure if you’d ever heard him speak so softly before.

“Standing.”

He stepped closer to you, in the dark, “I can see that.” He paused, his hands in his jean pockets, “But why all alone? Why in the dark?”

You sighed an emotional release. You closed your eyes and tilted your head upward, as if you were looking up at the ceiling or the sky; a sky full of stars, you wished. You willed. And you saw it, a sky full of stars. “Because I can.”

He watched you. He himself had been intrigued by you since the first moment he laid eyes on you, “Why are you smiling?”

“The stars, can’t you see them?” You suddenly dropped your head and opened your eyes to look at him, even in the dark, you could see a hint of a small smile.

“I wish.”

“I’m not very sober,” you admitted, carelessly.

He edged closer to you, as if being careful, “I can tell.” He slowly maneuvered past furniture, careful to not trip, and was right in front of you now. Closer than ever before, you thought. You weren’t sure though because it was your drunk brain making these deductions. He was looking at you in the eyes, “You’re not very subtle about it.”

You laughed, quietly. You shook your head. There was a pause before you hesitantly said, “Pope?”

“Yeah?” he said, so quietly that it was almost a whisper, but not quite.

You leaned in, not so gracefully or slowly, and kissed him. It was a little clumsy and fast, but it was done without much thought. Your drunk brain felt like kissing Pope and made it happen, no questions asked, no doubts or second-guesses.

He kissed you back, at first. He held your face with one hand to steady the kiss, to respond to your affection, but it was him who eventually stopped it. He reluctantly pulled away from you, although still standing so close to you, he said, “We… probably shouldn’t…” like it was an effort to control himself. His hand still held the side of your face until he moved further away.

It was probably your age. You were, after all, only twenty-years-old. But it was probably a lot of things that you would never understand because you weren’t a Cody. You sometimes feared that you’d never understand Pope, but other days you felt like he was the only person in the entire world that you understood.

Your hand fell from his shoulder. You knew it wasn’t right, whatever feelings you had. Pope probably wasn’t interested; he wouldn’t have time for some college-junior, twenty-year-old. But you couldn’t help yourself.

You whispered, “I just… wanted to show you the sky full of stars…” but when you turned to leave and embarrassingly stumble through the darkness, he grabbed onto your hand and pulled you back into him. You shared another kiss, this time heated and urgent. You felt his longing for affection, and you gave it to him, just as he gave it right back, his hands fumbling in the dark and your bodies touching.

But Baz called out for him and you both broke apart in seconds.

He eyed you, his chest quickly moving up and down. He looked at you as if you were unreal, as if he only imagined what just happened. Though, he was quick to compose himself before he walked right past you out the sliding door again.

You stood in the darkness for a little while longer, your fingers on your lips.

Since that night, things were left unresolved. Pope pretended it never happened, or maybe he pretended because he thought you wouldn’t remember. But you hadn’t drank that much alcohol; you remembered every second of it.

You stood there, now, in the Cody’s backyard as crowds of strangers passed by, either jumping into the pool or getting another drink. You wondered where Smurf was, briefly, and then spotted J on the opposite side with Nicky. They were talking and laughing, drinks already in hand.

You walked over to them, ignoring everyone else, and J nodded at you in greeting as you came over. “Hey,” you replied, and smiled at Nicky who said ‘hi’ back.

You raised your voice over the pounding music, “You haven’t seen Pope, have you?”

J looked at you curiously, that signature inquisitive stare of his, “Nah,” he said, “I haven’t. Baz just asked me the same thing, though.” He took a sip of his drink and swallowed quickly, “Why?”

You shrugged your shoulders, your hands deep in your denim jacket pockets, “Just haven’t seen him lately, is all.” You glanced around the party again to make sure.

“Probably because he’s spending all his time with his new girlfriend, Amy, you know, from the church?” It was as if he was testing you, awaiting a specific reaction. J was calculative, you knew that. He was one of the smartest students you ever met, surely smarter than you. And a Cody, after all.

You side-eyed him and then nodded, deciding to play it simple, “Right, I forgot.” You grabbed a fresh drink from the cooler beside him, “Why the party, anyway?” You knew the change of subject was probably what he was expecting but it was better than sitting under his curious eyes any longer.

J shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know, Baz’s idea. Maybe he’s just getting back at Smurf for something, again.”

You laughed, “Yeah, probably.” Suddenly, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. You pulled it out and glanced at the glowing screen; a new text from Pope.

You scanned his recent messages and frowned immediately.

_Yesterday at 9:30 pm_

**Pope:** don’t do anything stupid. I’ll see you in a minute.

_Today at 5:47 pm_

**You:** hey are you coming tonight? To Smurf’s? Baz is throwing a party but I don’t wanna be by myself

_6:08 pm_

**You:** Helloooo?? Where are you?

_Just Now (8:44 pm)_

**Pope:** I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know I’m an asshole to you and you don’t deserve it. I know I don’t show it but I care I do. I really fucking do. I want you to know that.

**Pope:** Fuck

**Pope:** I’m sorry Y/N

You stared at the messages on your screen for far too long. It was unreal. You felt your vision blur with confused tears. You wiped your eyes and blinked furiously, staring at the messages still. You couldn’t tear your eyes away. Pope would only say these things to you if he was about to do something incredibly stupid. You felt your hand tremble with the weight of your phone, you knew _exactly_ what he was planning to do.

You felt shivers roll down your skin and goosebumps spread. Your hands shook so much that you couldn’t hold your phone, so you pocketed it.

“You okay?” Nicky suddenly asked, departing from the conversation that J was having with someone you didn’t recognize.

You tried to swallow down the panic, you tried to swallow down the dryness in your mouth, but you couldn’t think straight. You took in a quick breath, “I’m fine.” It came out in a way that said you were anything but fine, and you knew Nicky could tell, she wasn’t an idiot. She nudged J beside her and whispered something in his ear, but you didn’t catch what because you were too busy freaking the fuck out.

Where the fuck would he be, at this hour? He couldn’t be with Amy; he wouldn’t do that to her. So where would Pope go to kill himself?

You had visible tears now, in your eyes, and you messaged him back immediately after your hands stopped shaking too hard. J was saying something to you, but you were too focused on typing to listen, his voice meshed with the sound of the music.

**You:** Where are you? tell me right now you better not fucking do anything stupid Pope.

J suddenly grabbed your arm and you froze, staring up at him. You could see the concern in his eyes. Nicky stared between the pair of you.

“What’s wrong?” he urged, wide-eyed.

You swallowed tentatively, “Nothing…” you shrugged out of his grip, “Nothing.” You left the pair of them by the pool and headed straight for the driveway. You had to figure it out fast. It might even be too late, but you had to find him _now_. You quickly gathered yourself together, so it didn’t look like you were having some sort of emotional freak-out and dodged past strangers. You couldn’t see any of the others, so you figured you’d just find him on your own.

You jumped into your car and started it, narrowing down your options of where to check first. If you chose first correctly then you might have a chance at stopping him.


	2. Chapter 2

You had been driving around for ages when you finally got a text. Two texts. You stared at your phone in silence, one from J and one from Pope. They both said basically the same thing, that Pope made it to Smurf’s. J, though, said some bullshit about wanting to know if you were okay. You threw the phone down into the seat next to you. Of course, you weren’t fucking okay.

You breathed, though, a long sigh of relief, it washed over you and the tension left your body.

You cried, your hands firmly on the steering wheel in a dark corner of a street somewhere, parked. You couldn’t believe Pope had done that to you. 

You were fuming on your way back to Smurf’s. You didn’t respond to either of their messages, instead you’d let Pope have it when you got back. Something about yelling at him over the phone or with capitalized letters didn’t do your anger justice.

Once you parked the car out the front of the house, you were quickly let in through their front gate by someone inside. Despite the pure anger plastered all over your face.

You didn’t bother knocking on the front door and instead let yourself in through the back. You saw them crowded altogether near the pool, no other guests except the Codys and Nicky and a girl you didn’t really recognize.

You couldn’t contain your anger and when you saw Pope standing there, in his blue collar-shirt and a gun in his hand, you let loose.

You stormed up to him, not caring about what the others might think, and shoved him in the chest. He was surprised to see you and even more surprised at your act of violence against him. But he spotted the tears in your eyes and the way you clenched your jaw and he knew why.

“You stupid fucking prick,” you said, so evenly and calmly that it scared even you. You shoved him again and he took it, he accepted it, but this time Baz grabbed ahold of your arms from behind. You shook at his grip, but it wasn’t loosening.

Pope stared at you and glanced at the others, “Y/N—”

“Shut the fuck up!” you retaliated, shaken with more tears. Pope shifted uncomfortably under your stare. “I can’t fucking believe you—”

“What the fuck did you do, Pope?” Baz interjected. You couldn’t see the look on his face because he was still grasping your arms behind you to keep you from losing your shit completely at Pope, but you could tell by his voice that he was mostly confused.

Pope stared at his brother and said, “Nothing, I—”

You wrestled against Baz’s grip and yelled, “I know what you were gonna do!”

“What is she talking about?” Deran asked, curiosity getting the better of him. The others just stared at the pair of you in silence. J had a concerned look on his face, and obviously got the answer to his question about whether you were okay or not.

Pope refused to answer so you kept talking.

“I know why you fucking sent it, Andrew. I’m not stupid. I know what you were gonna do and I can’t—” you sobbed and couldn’t finish the rest of your sentence. You swallowed down more tears and twisted at Baz’s grip, “Just let me go, already!”

“Not if you’re—” Baz started but was quickly interrupted.

“Let her go,” Pope said, calmly.

Baz looked at his brother momentarily, as if he was crazy, but let you go, nonetheless. You shook out your arms from his tight grip. You were still mad, and you wiped your face with your sleeve.

Pope started, “I’m sorry—”

“I can’t believe y-you would do that to me,” you stammered, your emotions taking over.

“But I didn’t,” he argued, firmly, his jaw clenched, trying hard to keep it together himself. Especially at the sight of you, emotionally wrecked because of what he did. He hated it and he hated himself for causing it.

You shook your head at him, “You were going to.”

“I wasn’t, I—”

“You fucking clicked send, Andrew!” Your chest was heaving up and down by now and you couldn’t stop the emotions, they rolled in like waves on a beach. And you were the sand, soaking them up.

The others stared at the commotion, unable to put in their own thought because none of them had a clue what Pope almost did to himself. Only you.

Pope swallowed firmly, “But I didn’t do it, Y/N,” he urged, wanting you so badly to stop crying. Wanting everyone to go away and leave him alone, except for you. He just wanted to talk to you.

“What is she talking about, Pope?” Baz interrupted, still staring at him.

You shoved Pope again, angrily. He took it gladly, so you shoved him again, harder. You wanted him to know the how it felt for you to receive a suicide note over the phone, but you could never replicate that for him.

You were just so mad. Too mad. Baz didn’t try to stop you when he realized that you weren’t going to really hurt Pope.

You stood there a moment, your breathing evening out and your anger slowly subsiding. But you were hurt. Hurt more than you could ever say. Pope could tell, too, he could see it in your eyes. He’d broken your trust and he hated himself for it.

Pope couldn’t look at you.

You swallowed the fresh tears back, “Don’t you ever fucking do that again, okay?” At first, he didn’t respond, so you shoved him one final time, “Okay!?”

“Okay,” he repeated, quietly. Like a scolded child.

You stood there until it sunk in for him, until you could tell that he knew how much he had hurt you. Then you left without glancing back at him or anyone.

***

You had left Pope’s wardrobe after a minute or two. You heard voices outside, so you decided to sneak out of the bedroom and toward the backdoor. You were still alarmed, your anxiety through the roof. Whoever it was outside must be a major threat.

You peeked through the blinds of the back window and saw Pope sitting on the concrete ledge that bordered his back porch; he was facing the beach. You saw the other figure move slowly to him. You recognized the back of his head. The clothes, the haircut... It was Baz. You stood up straight, thinking it must have been some sort of mistake on Pope’s part to have acted so irrationally. But you spotted the gun in Baz’s hand.

You ducked down again, quickly and noiselessly. What the fuck was Baz doing with a gun? Your eyes were wide, and alarm bells in your head rang, what were you supposed to do? You lifted yourself up just enough to peer through the blinds again.

“She didn’t suffer,” Pope admitted, his speech splintered with regret. It was muffled through the glass that separated you, but you could hear him well enough. He lowered his head, “We thought she was… talking to the cops…” There was a moment’s hesitation and you could see the strain on Baz’s face.

Pope struggled to get the rest out, “I _loved_ her.”

You sat back down, immediately. You cupped your hand over your mouth and breathed hard. You heard Pope talking still but you didn’t need to listen anymore, you knew what had happened. You sat there, stunned. Leaning against the wall, your knees tucked up to your chest, you breathed ever so quietly. You tried to compose yourself but the shock of Pope’s confession to Catherine’s murder overwhelmed you.

Pope’s voice grew angrier and angrier, to the point of yelling. You couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Was Baz here to hurt him?

“Go ahead and do it…” Pope urged, after Baz refused to argue with him. “I want you to do it, _please_!”

You stood up at this moment, you weren’t sure why, at the time, but you did. You stood up and stared through the windows at both of them. Baz’s gun was still held at the ready and Pope had given up on fighting with him any longer. He just sat there, his back to you and Baz.

Baz held his gun as if he was fighting the urge. You wanted to move but you couldn’t, your feet were planted firmly in their position and they refused to give way. If you distracted him, you might save Pope, but surprising an emotional man with a loaded gun was never a smart move.

Baz slid the gun into his back pocket and grabbed Pope by the face, shaking him with vigour and aggression. “I know it was Smurf, I know,” he growled and fought to keep Pope under his grip.

You watched from inside as the two men grappled with each other and heard Baz say, “It wasn’t you. _Look at me!_ ” Baz finally had a better grip on Pope so that he couldn’t look anywhere else but into Baz’s eyes, and Baz continued, “Look at me, I love you brother, I love you, I take care of you. That’s what I do, I take care of you. I’ll always take care of you.” He shook Pope until he was still, either out of intimidation or disbelief, “I forgive you. You hear me? I forgive you.” Pope accepted the embrace Baz gave him and sobbed into his shoulder at his brother’s words.

You stared at them, as they hugged, through the blinds that covered the back windows, still standing in the same position. You weren’t afraid but your heart ached for the pair of them and the control that Smurf had over their lives.

You passed the furniture until you made it to the sliding door and opened it but didn’t take another step.

Baz reassured Pope, though he was trying his best to keep himself together, and their embrace parted. Baz noticed your presence by the door and glanced to his brother. Pope looked to you standing at the sliding door and quickly wiped his tears away with the back of his hand. He didn’t say a word to either of you and turned away.

Baz was not alarmed but if you knew what Pope had done, that would be a problem. He didn’t trust you completely, although he knew how much you cared about his brother, and how much Pope cared for you. He touched Pope on the shoulder as he passed him and came to you at the back door. He could see you were disturbed by the commotion; he could tell you knew what had happened by the concerned look in your eyes.

“You need a ride?” It was his way of asking whether or not you were going to turn on them, turn on Pope and do something stupid like go to the police with his confession.

But you would never do that to him. You could never do that to Pope. You knew what a snake Smurf was and seeing Baz forgive him so easily and quickly, you knew Baz understood it too. You shook your head, “I think I’m gonna stay. Make sure he’s okay.”

Baz wasn’t surprised by your response, in fact, deep down, he knew. And he was thankful. He smiled sadly and then touched your shoulder briefly before announcing his departure, he apparently had some other ‘shit to deal with’. You heard him leave through the front door.

You stared at Pope who had not turned to face you, still. He was staring out at the ocean, the crashing of salty water onto the sand. The breeze that ruffled his curled hair. He didn’t want to look at you, not out of shame for you but shame for himself.

You slowly closed the door behind you as you stepped out onto his back porch. The air met your skin and you sighed.

Pope finally registered your existence by turning to, reluctantly, look at you. His eyes were still wet and red, and he cowered as if in danger, like an abused dog. You stared at him, your lip quivered out of heartbreak for him and you realized that you could never be afraid of him.

You rushed toward him and without hesitation, wrapped your arms around him. He trembled at your touch; you could tell he was surprised. You didn’t say anything except let your embrace speak for itself. At first, he was doubtful and distrusting but it soon dissipated as he returned the warmth you gave him by squeezing you, holding you closer, his face nestled into your neck.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, it was muffled by your jacket. You didn’t know what he was apologizing for, exactly, if it was for Cath or Baz, or the text message and almost suicide attempt, or maybe it was just an apology to you for having to care about someone like him. Whatever it was, it wasn’t needed. You understood. You understood him.

“It’ll be okay, Pope,” you finally said, after a moment’s pause. You squeezed him in reassurance.

He lifted his head and his eyes met yours, only a little watery now. He pressed his head to you, his forehead touched yours and both your noses brushed by each other. His eyes were closed. You closed your eyes, too. You both thought about how familiar each other’s touch was, and it sparked a memory for Pope.

He spoke first, “You…” he swallowed, nervously, “You remember the sky full of stars?”

You smiled, stupidly, and your cheeks flushed a light pink.

He peered at you through slightly opened eyes, now no longer resting his face against yours, “I wasn’t sure if you remembered.”

You opened your eyes, “I do. All of it.”

He brushed strands of hair away from your face, that had blown out of place from the sea breeze, eager to touch you. He hesitated at first, to kiss you, but you encouraged him as you met his lips. His hands pulled you closer to him and he kissed you deeply. He moved his hands to hold your face and your arms wrapped around him; your body touching him almost completely, you didn’t want to not be near him.

Your kiss parted and he breathed in, deeply, but he still held you close to him. “I thought… I thought I had no one.” His eyes were already open when you opened yours at his words. He swallowed, “I… I wanted to tell you for so long, I wanted to tell Baz, but I couldn’t because I was a coward.” His thumb swiped the sand from your cheek and his breath trembled. He wet his lips nervously, unable to look into your eyes. “Last night, I told Amy and… she didn’t…” he trailed off, closing his eyes briefly. “I just couldn’t take it; I couldn’t take keeping this secret anymore.” He relaxed his shoulders, but his jaw was still tight with tension, “I told her because it didn’t matter… in the end, it didn’t matter what she thought.” He swallowed, “But with you… with you, it _mattered_. And so, when I told her and she freaked out, I thought I could never tell anyone, ever and… I went to the beach. I sent that message to you and I’m so sorry—” his voice cracked with guilt and shame, but you knew what he meant. You knew why he was going to do it and you understood.

“It’s okay,” you affirmed, your hands holding his face, now, his eyes finally resting on yours, “It’s okay, Pope. I know. I know.”

He calmed down at your soothing voice and the touch of your hands on his face. He leaned his forehead onto your shoulder, and you wrapped your arms around him again, kissing his cheek. “You’ve got me, always.”

He squeezed you tight and never wanted to let you go.


End file.
